Liesel Hartwig // Hamlet (sinsremembered) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-12-27 17:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | daemon sadi, hamlet |
Who: Liesel and Sol
What: Being crazy
Where: Some alley somewhere
When: Late, around 2 AM
Warnings: Sol butchers a body in his first tag. It’s nasty. Then there is making ‘sociopathic, murdering fwends 101’ with Liesel and Sol. Take care.
There was no blood on the walls. The Sadist was too controlled for that, too viciously elegant to splatter someone on the bricks when he could crush a delicate brain in his hands. He stood beside the writhing victim, one hand each holding the man’s limbs to the pavement. Another hand stroked languidly through the man’s stomach, creating bruises under the skin. A smile turned up his lips as he crouched beside the man. "How did her body feel under yours?" he asked, his voice too soft, too gentle. "Did she scream?”"
The man shook his head, thrashing it from side to side. His eyes were wide, leaking tears. The Sadist had no interest in tears. He turned his head, watching the bruises spread across the man’s abdomen. The blossomed, like delicate purple flowers, tracing their petals across skin. He could feel the man’s organs beneath his phantom hands. Their warm slippery smoothness was alluring, intoxicating. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was rubbing his hands with lotion.
"She was your daughter." He could have waxed poetic about the horrors of raping an eleven year old child, but there was no reason. His psychic hands made the point for him. Quite effectively.
Slipping his hands from the man’s abdomen, the Sadist allowed him some relief. A mouth slipped up the man’s naked thigh, lips whispering over flesh. Another mouth pressed against the man’s chest, and then another. The Sadist tipped his head back, watching the cloudy skies as his hands caressed and teased, playing the man’s body with a skill acquired from years of practice. When the man trembled with pleasure, the Sadist turned to him with a chilly smile. While the fingers and mouths slid over the man’s body, and the man stared at him with huge, wild eyes, he slid his psychic hands into the man’s head and dug the fingers into his brain. There was a curious squishing feeling. The man twitched once and then lay still.
No, one didn’t need to paint the walls with blood to make a point.